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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29902449">one year, three months, twenty-four days</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/stevebuckiest/pseuds/stevebuckiest'>stevebuckiest</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Captain America (Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Birthday, Bucky Barnes Remembers, Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Captain America: The First Avenger Compliant, Captain America: The Winter Soldier Compliant, Depressed Steve Rogers, Drowning, Hopeful Ending, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Missing Scene, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Protective Bucky Barnes, Time Skips, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, and eventually comfort!, scenes plural, the valkyrie . yk</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 18:48:08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>18,281</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29902449</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/stevebuckiest/pseuds/stevebuckiest</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It still amazes him sometimes that someone like Bucky would want to be sweet on someone like him. Bucky’s charming where Steve is cagey. He’s strong where Steve is skinny. Popular where Steve is prickly. He’s still older. Still bigger. Stronger. Better at just about everything, including fighting with all the rounds in the boxing ring he’s been taking. </p><p>Steve’s only stupid sometimes- he knows he has his good qualities even if it doesn’t always feel like it. But that never stops making Bucky choosing him- especially considering what else he could have- feel like something special. It is something special, because that’s what Bucky is to Steve. </p><p>(alternatively, an ode from steve rogers’ about just how special the small difference in his and bucky’s ages is, told across the time that tried to keep them apart)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>108</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>one year, three months, twenty-four days</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>welcome to Bucky Barnes’ Age Math 101, published before marvel can mess with my timeline. it’s just not realistic to me bucky didnt age at least a year or two or three as the soldier but ... i get into that in the text. this is very self indulgent because everyone and their mother seems to forget mcu bucky is older than steve. without further ado!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ironically enough, Steve is getting his ass handed to him the first time he meets Bucky Barnes. Really, that occurrence is nothing out of the ordinary- Steve might only be two months past his twelfth birthday, but he’s already at this point in his life well used to getting into fights that have odds that are less than fair. What he <em> isn’t </em> used to is being rescued. That’s an odd enough occurrence in and of itself. </p><p>Steve is trying his best not to take the beat down, but at twelve, he’s already tiny in comparison to everyone else. His mind may be made for a fight (at least that’s what his Ma always says every time he comes home after another one), but his body inarguably is not. Steve still likes to argue a lot about that anyways, usually when someone tells him he should stop fighting in the first place. </p><p>That’s what he tries to do with Bucky immediately after the bullies run away. For once, they’re the ones taking the out. That’s another oddity, but one of which Steve can’t find it in himself to complain about. </p><p>Even at thirteen before all the boxing and brawn they both have no idea that’s yet to come, Bucky’s fighting is a thing of beauty, at least to someone as used to being on the bad side of those fights as Steve. A portion of him is just proud to have taken part in it- or, <em> taking part </em>might be a stretch, but he’d stopped someone from bashing a brick onto Bucky’s head with a trash can lid even before he knew his name, so that bit of reciprocal protection must count for something in the long run. </p><p>That tint amount of uninjured pride still doesn’t stop the scowl Steve turns to face him with after the fight is all said and done. This <em> mystery boy </em> may have helped save Steve’s hide, but he’d also come sauntering in saying something that had Steve’s skin crawling while he was still doing the same up off the dirt.  </p><p>“Watching you shake down little kids every day is making me nauseous,” he’d said, already swinging his first punch to smack the goon who had been trying to goad Steve into a shake down for what little spare change he had in the face hard enough to knock his hat off. Steve’s first reflex had been to pause the altercation in order to protest, but that was before he saw the brick aimed for his hero’s head, and he’d had to keep those protests in his own until all the bullies finally pulled away, pushed out into the street by the mystery brunette boy saving the day. </p><p><em> Little kid? </em> Steve is no longer eleven, thank you. He’s <em> twelve, </em> and maybe he hasn’t quite yet cleared four and a half feet tall, but he’s still definitely not a <em> little kid. </em>His ma has promised his growth spurt will come one day, and Steve can’t wait until it does. He’d like to see this mystery boy say that to his face again just so he can knock that smug smile off it. Even if it is somehow more charming than any other smile Steve has ever seen. </p><p>That’s exactly what Steve is aiming to do when he raises up his hands, palms still filthy from the dirt he’d just been thrown down into. They exchange words for the first time, and while the other boy’s may not be defensive, Steve’s definitely still are. That’s no surprise with his stance and still squared up fists. </p><p>Bucky- who Steve still doesn’t <em> know </em> is Bucky- offers some joke about Steve only staving off the bullies if they died of old age, which only serves to get Steve spitting mad with the reminder of the <em> little kid </em> line from earlier, so that’s exactly how his answer comes out.</p><p>“Maybe you wanna go a round or two too?” He doesn’t actually know if he has enough left in him to stomach that, especially with how strong he’s just seen this boy prove himself to be, but he’s <em> Steve Rogers, </em>damnit. He still has to try. </p><p>When mister mystery boy responds with an eye roll and promise he’s not here to punch him, Steve lowers his defenses to tell him as much- or at least out loud, he tells him his name. What the boy had just said- <em> “you’re a real inspiration, you know that?” </em> makes the other part seem a bit pointless to elaborate. It’s a compliment. Steve isn’t used to those, even ones that come immediately after being called things like a <em> little kid </em> and a <em> shrimp</em>. <em> Cowboy, </em> too, but he doesn’t think that counts the same as the others. </p><p>He’s so taken aback by the fact this boy- who is very obviously bigger, stronger, smoother, and undeniably a better fighter than Steve- would say something so <em> nice. </em>He’s still surprised he came in to try and help him off the street. It makes him feel a bit dizzy, truth be told, though that also might be because his body is feeling beat. </p><p>He thinks he’s seen this boy at school, maybe, but that doesn’t mean much. Steve doesn’t talk to many people there, especially not popular people who are a grade up and good in a fight. The attention this boy is giving him is the only positive experience he’s had so far from someone of that speed. </p><p>He feels almost ashamed that his hand is so dirty when he holds it out for him to shake, but even at twelve, Steve is stubborn as hell and not about to hide it. This boy’s knuckles are as bruised and bloody as his anyways. “Thanks, I guess,” Steve says quietly, hoping he can keep his hand from shaking more than in the way that it should. He doesn’t want to look weak, not when this boy is finally looking at him like he’s someone worth seeing. “Steve Rogers. Me and my Ma live on the next street.” </p><p>Better to drop the single mother bomb now rather than later. He’s seen how some of the other ladies sneer at the sight of them when they make it to church- it doesn’t matter Joseph died in the war and Sarah is strong enough to raise Steve on her own. All those people see is what they lack. </p><p>Bucky, for one, doesn’t look phased by this information. Steve gets to finally put the name to his face a moment later. “Good to know you, kid. James Buchanan Barnes.” He jams a thumb towards himself, other hand still holding Steve’s own. “But my friends call me Bucky.”</p><p>Steve blinks. Bucky just called him a kid again, but at least he’s dropped the <em> little. </em> Look, Steve knows that’s what he is (in body, at least) but he'd prefer he doesn’t have to hear someone <em> say </em> it. <em> Kid </em> is still enough to get his hackles half raised, but it’s better than the alternative. And speaking of alternatives- “What do I call you?”</p><p>Are they friends? Bucky doesn’t seem to be a bully or someone who’s mean enough to make Steve hand over his pocket change, but that doesn’t mean he wants to stick around or have Steve hang off him either. Steve’s small, but he isn’t stupid. No matter what his Ma thinks, he isn’t much of a catch to anyone else, and that includes kids his own age. Or in Bucky’s case, a little older. </p><p>Compared to James, Bucky, <em> whatever </em> Steve ends up calling him, Steve’s a leech. He’s not like him. Bucky looks like he says things and people listen. People probably look at him and <em> like </em> him. </p><p>Bucky’s one of the first people who have bothered to look at Steve at all. </p><p>He’s still doing that even after they drop their hands. He snorts and shakes his head, and for a second Steve’s heart drops despite the fact he doesn’t even know him enough to feel so disappointed- but that’s as short lived as the doctors say Steve is going to be. “I just saved your ass, didn’t I? Don’t suppose I’d do that and not at least get to know you after.” He gives him a grin that makes Steve want to smile back. “You can call me Bucky. There’s at least ten other James in our classes- and don’t you dare make a joke about the president, or I’ll have to take you up on that offer for the punch.”</p><p>He’s joking. Steve can feel an unfamiliar sense of joy rise up in his chest, but he contains it by offering up a joke of his own. “Thought you hated seeing people shake down little kids.” <em> He </em> hates being <em> called </em> a little kid, but the laugh that pulls from Bucky is worth it. </p><p>Bucky squints at him like he’s searching for something only to dart his eyes to the side and come to a decision. “Upon a closer look, I can make an exception.” He doesn’t sound serious, thankfully. The arm he throws around Steve’s skinny shoulders a second later only cements that. Steve starts at the playful touch- he isn’t used to this, either. “Now how’s about you let me help you home? You can repay me by letting me wash up at your place so my Mama doesn’t whoop me for making her worry.”</p><p>Steeve’s own mother isn’t due home from the hospital for another few hours, so saying yes is easy. He doesn’t want to come across as too eager, though, so he takes his sweet time in saying so. “Sure, as long as you don’t make me pay to cross the street.”</p><p>Bucky grins, loose and though another laugh, socking Steve gently on the side of his head with a hand that unfurls to muss up his hair immediately after. “Pal, you don’t gotta worry about me mugging your ugly mug. Most I’ll do is make you carry my books on Monday.”</p><p>“You’re assuming I wouldn’t just drop them in the mud,” Steve shoots, but it’s with a smile that he will <em> not </em> classify as shy no matter how clumsy it is. </p><p>Bucky isn’t shy. He doesn’t seem to be the type of person that ever is. Bucky is sure and smart when he speaks despite the fact they only met a matter of minutes ago. “We’ll see, Steve-o. We’ll see.”</p><p>Steve secretly hopes they do, as long as <em> seeing </em> means they both will be sticking around. Bucky Barnes might just be the best friend Steve Rogers will ever make. </p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Bucky is the <em> worst, </em> actually, Steve comes to find. Absolutely awful. He’s not only an asshole, but also a tease and a charmer all at once. A triple threat, as the girls like to call him. A <em> jerk </em> is what Steve goes for himself. He’s a jerk, but he’s also still Steve’s best friend. And now, with more recent developments, his best guy. His fella. </p><p>As Bucky always likes to say, his old man, though <em> Steve </em> always likes to smack him every time he does. They’re no longer twelve and thirteen now, and Steve might still be a year younger, but they’re out of school- so what does it matter? </p><p>To Bucky, it seems to matter a lot with how he’s been holding it over Steve’s head since the moment they met. Not that that’s too hard, considering Bucky is almost six foot and Steve is still yet to clear the upper half of five foot four. That growth spurt Sarah promised never quite came, but Bucky likes to tease him about how he still should hold out his hopes for one day. </p><p>Steve is twenty. He’s not sure how much more <em> hope </em> he should have, at least where height is concerned. Miracles might exist, but not for them. </p><p>If miracles <em> did </em> exist, Steve wouldn’t have sprained his ankle after climbing on that chair in the kitchen last week. Bucky wasn’t home to catch him. Steve supposes he’s lucky that he hadn’t actually <em> broken </em> the bone, but limping home from work in the grim after effects of a morning full of rain, <em> luck </em> isn’t the feeling that’s on the forefront of his mind. </p><p>There’s dampness seeping in the side of his shoe, which is always a sight there’s a new hole forming that they can’t afford to fix. He’s wearing pants that need the hem sewed back up so they’ll stop dragging through the puddles, but his hands are so unsteady from the cold and stiffness he can already feel cramping up in his joints that he’s not sure he’ll have it in him to patch them up until the lousy weather passes. He’d insisted Bucky take the spare jacket with him when he had to jog down to the docks for his shift as his own shift didn’t start until later, so in short, Steve is cold. He’s wet. He’s walking with a limp. He’d like to know how things could <em> possibly </em> get worse for where he’s at. </p><p>Unfortunately, for once, the universe decides to deliver. </p><p>Steve hears a cat yowling somewhere beside him and turns to see what looks to be a couple of clearly intoxicating men poking at it with a stick and laughing like torturing the poor thing is some sick sort of fun for them to get their kicks in. They have it trapped up against some crates, and eventually the yowls turn to cries, and Steve- for all that he wishes he could mind his own business with as bad as he’s already feeling- can no longer walk away. </p><p>He takes in a deep breath to steel his determination, and despite how sore his ankle still is, decides to march on over with his mouth already moving. “Leave the damn cat alone, c’mon!”</p><p>He doesn’t know exactly how he winds up in the alleyway a block away from home, but he’s aware enough to notice two things. One, this alleyway seems to be a favorite for those who always wind up trying to fight him. And two, there’s a very large man standing in front of him with a fist aimed directly at his face. The cat is no longer anywhere to be seen, and Steve finds a small comfort in that ever when he feels the first hit crack across his face. </p><p>His ears are still ringing from it when the guy holding him starts to sneer out the usual insults- some Steve can hear but doesn’t care to repeat, others that blur together so much they don’t make any sense at all. That could be because Steve is woozy and can feel his nose already bleeding, but there’s also a decent chance it’s because this man is drunk. He’s close enough for Steve to smell the beer still on his breath. </p><p>Steve distantly has the thought that he’s going to remember this next time Bucky tries to kiss him tasting of something similar. Bucky’s twenty one, old enough to legally drink. He’s been doing that a lot lately, cracking open a can sometimes just because Steve thinks it makes him feel cool to be able to drink the stuff so casually. Steve might not yet be the same, but he’s still sipped on Bucky’s enough to know it isn’t his favorite. Still, the taste of it is somehow appealing when it’s on his tongue from Bucky’s mouth, and Steve is really a bit bitter this drunken asshole is about to take that away. </p><p>He shoves back best he can with his hands still so clumsy from the cold, glaring up at the guy with the hardest stare he can muster. That, at least, can come out strong. “You wanna call me a pussy but here you are beating up on cats and- what else did you call me?” He scoffs and shoves him again. “Oh yeah, a <em> fairy.” </em></p><p>“You didn’t deny it,” says the other man Steve saw on the street, stepped off to the side while his friend continues to try and shake him down. </p><p>Steve scoffs a second time and tries not to look as scared as he feels. Being beat up is one thing. Being found out- risking <em> Bucky </em> being found out- is another. “Like there’s anything I could do to change what little minds you morons have left. If you think I’m so weak, what’s the fun in picking a fight? Beating up on me make you feel like a couple of big men?”</p><p>The guy cornering Steve back laughs like there’s a joke in there that Steve hasn’t been let in on. “Bet that’s what you like, you little-“</p><p>“Hey!” Suddenly, there’s a scuffle rising up despite the fact Steve isn’t moving. There’s another man in the alley, and Steve can’t see his face, but he doesn’t need to in order to be able to recognize the beautiful way this third man fights. </p><p>It’s Bucky. Steve can recognize him anywhere, even half deaf and half blind with his body and heart working against him. </p><p>Even if he couldn’t, he knew Bucky would be coming off the docks in time for dinner. He knew that this is the way Bucky almost always walks to make his way home. And most of all, he knows that Bucky is always there when Steve gets in over his head to help wade in and pull him out of whatever waters he’s landed himself in this time. </p><p>He does that now with a few well timed punches and quite literal ass kicking to the guy that had Steve cornered even as they’re both scurrying to get away. Steve wasn’t the only one who recognized Bucky, must be. Anyone who has been down to the neighborhood Y has seen his face plastered up on the wall. Three time welterweight champion- there’s not much wonder about why they ran. </p><p>They’re practically gone with the wind, but Bucky still calls after them anyways, deep voice ringing out through the darkness and confusion of their drunken stupor. “Pick on someone your own size next time, or there’s a lot more where that came from!” Then, turning to Steve, hands brushing off on his shirt and reaching out to help him up after, “What’d you do this time, punk?”</p><p>Steve huffs, but accepts Bucky’s helping hand begrudgingly. “Didn’t <em> do </em> anything but try and help.”</p><p>Bucky snorts. He’s heard that before. Probably a hundred times by now, with how many he’s seen Steve start and struggle to finish on his own. He’s one to judge, considering how they met. “That’s what you always say.”</p><p>“Because that’s <em> always </em> the answer.” Steve winces when he goes to put pressure on his sprained ankle. They’d wrapped it before Bucky left for work, but bandages can only do so much good, and Steve hitting it when he went down hard from the punch apparently can do even more harm. “Fuck.”</p><p>Bucky sees him crumble even before he hears him curse, and before Steve can say anything else, his eyes are narrowing and Steve knows what’s about to happen next. They’ve been down this alley <em> and </em> this road before. He hauls Steve up to his feet and it isn’t even a surprise so much as an annoyance, especially when he turns and gives Steve his back like he expects him to climb up on it. Because he does. </p><p>And then, Steve does. Because he might be stubborn as all get out, but he knows all Bucky wants to do right now is get him home, and that’s exactly where he wants to go. That’s not to say he’s thrilled about being carried like he’s some sort of child, but some battles are better off not fought. They’re only a block from their building in any case, and it’s late enough for them to not have to worry so much about who might see- anyone who does will most likely just assume Steve got too sauced to stand anyways. It’s a Friday night, and young men getting so drunk they can’t walk is a pretty common occurrence. </p><p>Still, Steve’s arms are stiff when he circles them around Bucky’s broad shoulders, sigh let out into his sweaty hair that reeks of the salt from down by the docks. “I can manage to walk home myself, you know,” he says, but it’s half hearted. </p><p>Bucky twists his face enough to give him a side eye, both hands braced under Steve’s skinny thighs. “I know.” That’s the end of that conversation, at least in the meantime while Bucky sets about making their way back home. </p><p>Steve sighs again and tries to snuggle into his solid form as surreptitiously as possible considering they’re still in public, eyes closed while the silence sets in. It’s been a long day, and the steady sway of Bucky’s body with every step forward makes it easy enough for Steve to come dangerously close to falling asleep right on his fella’s back, warmth of him seeping his way inside until the cold is nothing more than a second thought. </p><p>But true to form, Bucky can’t keep his trap shut for too long. Pretty soon the sound of him speaking joins in with the soft slap of his feet against the still soaked pavement. “You gotta be more careful, Stevie.” He pauses, then presses on when Steve’s response is nothing more than to shift his hands where they’re held to Bucky’s biceps. “What was the damn fight over this time, huh? I should at least get to know what happened.” <em> Since I had to save your hide </em>goes unspoken, but Steve hears it anyways and he hates it. </p><p>He snuffles in through his nose. It’d be just his luck if he got sick again because of this. “I had ‘em on the ropes,” he mutters, not meaning it, because they both know he’d had his back quite literally stuck between a rock and a hard place- or at least, some brick and a bully. “They were trying to hurt that cat we always see slinking around on sixth, kept poking the poor thing with a stick and saying gross shit about what they were gonna do to it, Buck. What was I supposed to do, let it suffer?” He swallows when Bucky remains silent and goes on, half feeling like he’s scrambling for an excuse over something he shouldn’t have to. “I was only trying to help.”</p><p>It’s Bucky’s turn to sigh this time, grip going tighter on the underside of Steve’s thighs while he thinks. This is a discussion that’s been driven into the ground at this point, but it’s part of a pattern they just can’t seem to break. Steve starts a fight. Bucky comes in and finishes it. It’s a cycle that’s been stuck on repeat since the time they were kids. </p><p>That’s somehow still exactly what Bucky decides to call him now. “You’re a good kid, Rogers,” he says quietly, starting the climb up the steps of their building to where their apartment is on the third floor. They creak a little louder under the weight of both of them combined. “But you can’t keep putting yourself in situations where someone wants to kill you, you hear me? I ain’t always gonna be around all the time to have that crooked back of yours.”</p><p><em> You’re only twenty one, </em> Steve almost says. <em> Where do you think you’re gonna go that I can’t follow?  </em></p><p>He doesn’t end up letting that be said out loud. He opts instead for a grunt of gentle complaint about being called <em> kid </em> in favor of ignoring everything else Bucky just said. Bucky’s used to that. Sometimes, that’s just how Steve is. “Not a baby, Barnes. Barely a year younger than you.” </p><p>That’s only technically true for ten months of the year. With the way their birthdays fall, sometimes it comes out to be two. One year, three months, and twenty four days of a difference that Bucky’s been holding over his head since day one. </p><p>They aren’t in one of the two months that Bucky is two years older, though, so Steve is less likely to let the <em> kid </em> line slide without at least some of a fight. It’s more out of habit than anything, at this point. </p><p>He won’t ever tell Bucky, but he sort of privately likes it when it’s said just right. He has a soft spot for when it’s said so affectionately, maybe even exasperatedly depending on the setting. He likes it in any tone of voice when Bucky is looking at him the way he is right now, lowering Steve down in front of their apartment door so that they’re standing face to face while he works to unlock it. He waits to answer until Steve’s hobbled inside so he can shut the door behind them and say what he couldn’t when they were walking up the street. </p><p>His voice still remains soft anyways, palm curling the same around Steve’s cheek when he pulls him closer for a kiss. The curtains are still shut, low light filtering in through them so faded that it almost would feel like they’re in their own little world were it not for the noise Steve can half hear in his good ear from outside.  </p><p>“Not a baby,” Bucky agrees, lips right up against Steve’s own with his neck still bent to meet him. “But still <em> my </em> baby.” He kisses him again, silencing the complaints Steve can feel forming before they even make it out of his mouth. “Still my best guy.”</p><p>“Still yours,” Steve echoes. It’s nice to be able to say that now that they’re safe inside. And that’s exactly how Steve feels right now- he’s still sore, and Bucky slightly sweaty, but that’s now what matters. What matters is how much having this means. Being held. Being able to hold Bucky. This quiet, soft space between them where Steve feels surrounded enough to let himself feel sweet. </p><p>It still amazes him sometimes that someone like Bucky would want to be sweet on someone like him. Bucky’s charming where Steve is cagey. He’s strong where Steve is skinny. Popular where Steve is prickly. He’s still older. Still bigger. Stronger. <em> Better </em> at just about everything, including fighting with all the rounds in the boxing ring he’s been taking. </p><p>Steve’s only stupid sometimes- he knows he has his good qualities even if it doesn’t always feel like it. But that never stops making Bucky choosing him- especially considering what else he could have- feel like something special. It <em> is </em> something special, because that’s what Bucky is to Steve. </p><p>Bucky’s the one to break the spell that’s settled over him, pulling back with a grimace once he sees the shiner undoubtedly forming over Steve’s left eye. He whistles out low, hand on Steve’s back already herding him towards the bathroom. “Jesus Christ, sweetheart. That’s one boo-boo I’m not gonna be able to kiss better.”</p><p>Steve groans. <em> That </em> would not be one of the tones of teasing he can stomach the other name being said under. Boo-boo? What is he, five? That’s the sort of thing Bucky might say to one of his sisters, but <em> Steve? </em>Not even his Ma talked like that, and she was a nurse. </p><p>Bucky’s been calling him kid the entire time they’ve grown up together, and now that by technical standards they <em>are</em> grown- he still hasn’t stopped. It’s not infantilizing, but Steve would argue that it’s irritating. Sometimes. More times than not. </p><p>He would wager Bucky called him kid that first time because reflecting back, Steve can admit he looked a little younger than he realized at the time. He still hates to admit that, because he knows his height now can still make people think the same, but those aren’t the opinions that matter to him. Bucky knows he’s a man better than anyone. </p><p>He found out Steve’s birthday about ten minutes into their quickly kindled companionship while Steve allowed him to wash up in his kitchen sink because how else were they supposed to get to know each other if they didn’t speed through some of the basic facts as fast as the fight that’d first caused them to meet? </p><p>Bucky learned Steve didn’t have a dad or any aunts and uncles. Steve learned Bucky did, along with three little sisters who looked up to him but still hated when he brushed their hair (“I pull too hard, apparently,” Bucky had said. “But they need to toughen up anyways. Not <em> my </em> fault their hair gets so tangled.”). Bucky also learned that Steve’s Ma was a nurse, his favorite sport was baseball, and he wanted to be a soldier more than anything. Steve learned Bucky’s Ma didn’t work but could beat almost <em> anyone </em> with her baking, his favorite color was red, and that he hated every subject in school except science. </p><p>Steve also learned Bucky’s birthday is March tenth. Bucky laughed when Steve said his was on the fourth of July, but that was before Steve pointed out he was named after a president and didn’t have much room to talk. Twelve and thirteen versus twenty and twenty one- Steve doesn’t consider himself to be a kid anymore, and he wasn't much of one in comparison to Bucky back then, but after they met it still stuck with all the other nicknames Bucky saddled him with. <em> Literally </em> saddled, with how often he still calls Steve cowboy. </p><p>Steve tried to do the same with <em> Buckaroo</em>, but he’s never been the same way with the names (even the stupid rather than the sweet). They both know that, though. Sometimes Steve thinks that’s exactly why Bucky chooses to call him so many different dumb names in the first place.</p><p>He does that again right now, nudging a washcloth towards Steve’s face with a tired smile and a twinkle in his eye. “Be a doll and clean up for supper before I die of old age, yeah?” He scruffs Steve on the chin, calluses on his hands rough with a hard day’s work. “Knuckle sandwiches don’t sound particularly filling. Man can’t live off of those alone, not even a stubborn punk like you.”</p><p>Steve scowls and bats his hand away, but inside something is unfurling that’s warmer than anything he’s felt all day. He huffs, but he’s still happy, even with Bucky trying to tease him up over his head. Bucky might always be there to pull him out when he gets in too deep, but that doesn’t mean he has a problem dunking him back under as long as the banter is playful. “You’re a dick, you know that?”</p><p>Bucky winks, and pats Steve on his uninjured cheek. “Can’t help showing off what God gave me, sweetheart.” He smacks Steve’s hair with a kiss. “Had a headstart on the learning curve when it comes to annoying you.” </p><p>“You’re awful.<em>”  </em></p><p>“I’m an acquired taste. You’ll come to appreciate it with age.”</p><p>Bucky <em> is </em> awful. The worst. But he’s still the best thing that Steve thinks has ever happened to him. And really, Steve wouldn’t change a thing. </p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>The summer where Steve turns twenty five sees him changing a lot, and he thinks most people would say the serum is the best thing that’s ever happened to him. Maybe it is. It’s what helped him save Bucky after all, and no matter what good things have happened to Steve with all that’s been given to him, Bucky still came first. Bucky still <em> comes </em> first. </p><p>Miracle of all miracles, Bucky comes back to him even if that’s before he’s able to come back home. Steve came to <em> him </em> instead, and he might be the one who wants to ask Bucky if he’s ready to follow <em> Captain America</em>, but they both know it was Steve who followed Bucky over here first. </p><p>People might think they see Steve now, but Bucky was the first one to actually look at Steve and <em> want </em> him. Maybe Peggy saw him too, but she didn’t want him until after the serum. Bucky saw him before. He wanted Steve when he was broken and beaten down. </p><p>Dr. Erskine said that the serum amplified the good and bad of what was already inside, and Steve knows that loving Bucky is the best thing he’s ever done. He doesn’t suspect that changes now- at least not on his end. For Bucky… he isn’t sure, which is why when they’re in the bar, he finally has to ask. </p><p>Like with asking the Howlies to join his team, he has to build up some courage before he can do it. He can’t explain exactly why he’s so nervous, but he suspects it has to do with the fact that he has exactly four hours of experience in the field while these guys have closer to four <em> months. </em>Dernier and Dugan are over half a decade older. Gabe is only younger than him by a month. What business does Steve have with bossing them around? He doesn’t feel equipped. </p><p>Bucky helped him get settled that the first time, calming him down when he was riled up like always. Even with Steve in this big new body, Bucky has a handle on things. It’s a small comfort to have, but Steve wants to cling to it anyways. </p><p>Now that Bucky is the subject of his anxiety rather than the one actively trying to calm him down, it’s up to Steve to give himself his own pep talk. He already asked Bucky to be his second in command for the new team in private. What’s the big deal about asking him whether he still sees Steve for <em> Steve </em> in the bar?</p><p>When he walks over to where Bucky’s nursing on what looks to be whiskey, Bucky spots him immediately, a smile sliding on his face as easy as the next sip he takes does down his throat. “Told you,” he says, sounding more chipper than he has since Steve saved him. “They’re all idiots.”</p><p>Steve’s stomach flips at the sight of Bucky’s jaw flexing into a swallow, jumbled up nerves doing nothing to make him sound more confident when he speaks. “How about you?” Bucky looks at him with his eyebrows raised like Steve has just called <em> him </em> an idiot, so Steve clarifies. “You ready to follow Captain America into the jaws of death?” He plays up the moniker, but the question means more than he’s letting on. It isn’t life or death, but it’s something big. Love or loss, maybe. </p><p>Bucky only pauses a beat before he answers, and the reassurance is a relief. “Hell no,” he says, sure as the boy that Steve last say saluting goodbye to him back in Brooklyn. It makes a small part of him ache for all that they’ve aged in the time that the war has whittled away from them. “That little guy from Brooklyn who was too dumb not to run away from a fight. I’m following him,” Bucky says, breathing out so fondly when he says <em> dumb </em> that Steve can feel his heart do a flip. Bucky <em> sees </em> him. Not as Captain America, but as Steve. No matter what else has changed, their love is still the same. </p><p>Usually, he might get mad about being called <em> dumb, </em> but as things are… he’s just glad Bucky is back around to tease him. Hell, Bucky should call him a shrimp right now and Steve would probably still smile. </p><p>Apparently Bucky’s not done talking. Considering Steve thought he might never hear his voice again, he’s more than glad to listen- even when what Bucky has to say turns out to be a line that leaves Steve having to lower his gaze before he goes red from head to toe. Bucky leans on, leering at Steve so hard out of the corner of his eyes that one of them closes in a half wink that makes Steve want to leave with him as soon as he can. The line itself doesn’t lighten that urge. </p><p>“But you’re keeping the outfit, right?” Bucky’s voice is low and teasing, rough enough from the whisky for it to make Steve go warm and look at Bucky though his lashes. </p><p>“You know what? It’s kinda growing on me.” He darts his eyes away so he doesn’t actually do something dumb after delivering the statement- or at least dumber than what’s already been done with how he got his ass dragged over here in the first place. Bucky’s a bit mad at him for that, he knows, even if he hasn’t yet said so. He will. Eventually the scolding always comes, no matter the case or the cause. Steve clears his throat and tries to change the subject in the meantime. “Don’t get your hopes up, though. It’s not exactly regulation.”</p><p>Bucky grins, going golden as he’s always saying Steve is under the sepia toned light of the pub. “Oh, believe me, I can tell.” He leans in like he’s about to tell Steve a secret, and really maybe it’s good his words come out as a whisper, because they’re still loud enough to make Steve blush. “I dunno,” he drawls, breath smelling like alcohol and making Steve miss their shitty beer from back home. “You saw those guys in Italy when you came back.” Bucky pauses for a beat. “I don’t think they were cheering just for you, Steve-o. You brought more than just some POWs back.” The way his eyes dip down to Steve’s stool and what’s sitting on top of it makes it fairly clear what <em> more than </em>he means. “Guess that growth spurt hit a few more spots than just your shoulders.”</p><p>Steve has to duck his head again just to collect himself enough to form an answer. Christ, Bucky’s as bad with the dirty talk as ever, and they haven’t even had a proper chance to <em> talk </em> about that sort of thing since they got back together. </p><p>Four months, Steve was separated from him. Over four months, if he counts the time between Stark’s Expo and the serum. Steve was twenty four when Bucky last saw him. Twenty four when he got shot up with the serum to begin with. Bucky was twenty six, and he still is, but somehow Steve feels like there’s a world of difference.</p><p>It’s still that same difference between them, though. That same one year, three months, and twenty four days between their birthdays, even if Steve had to spend his last one on his own for the first time since he was turning thirteen. It was hard, doing that, especially knowing both he and Bucky were away from home. It’s still hard knowing they’re both away from home, but as long as they’re together, they can get through it.  </p><p>Besides- Steve might be bigger than Bucky now, but even if he’s taller, Bucky still has that year he can hold over his head. Bucky’s still got this on him. Even now that almost everything else has changed, that small feeling of being taken care of that Steve could never admit to having a soft spot before doesn’t. He might not <em> need </em> Bucky to take care of him and maybe Bucky’s no longer supposed to boss him around, but Steve <em> wants </em> him to anyways. He wants <em> him </em> anyways.</p><p>And with the way Bucky is looking at him right now, heady and half lidded, he wants Steve right back. That comfort Steve was clinging to before comes right back up when Bucky tells him as much, voice still low enough to be a murmur. “Missed you, kid.” He leans in. “You wanna go somewhere a little less crowd and make sure I can tell just how much you missed <em> me?” </em></p><p>There’s a lump in Steve’s thoat at that admission. He missed Bucky too. He can’t even articulate how much. Maybe he isn’t the exact same twenty four year old Bucky left back home in the city, but even at twenty five, he finds himself amazed that someone like Bucky still wants him. He’s still older. No longer bigger and no longer stronger, but still probably better at the things Steve hasn’t yet had the time to try. Most of them are things he doesn’t want to try with anyone else but Bucky anyways. </p><p>Making time in the way Bucky is very obviously hinting at is definitely one of those things, so it only takes a moment for Steve to tentatively nod his head. He knows what he wants. He was just wondering if Bucky was still wanting to give it. “I have a room ready for me if you want to…” he hesitates, but Bucky just brushes that off. </p><p>“You inviting a man up to your room?” he says, mockingly surprised. Like they haven’t shared a room for almost every moment of their adult lives save for the last four months. “Really, Captain Rogers, have some self respect.” He winks for real this time, timed and intentional. “A big bad man like me might be wanting to take advantage.”</p><p>Steve snorts, shyness forgotten. Bucky is still big even if Steve is bigger, but he isn’t <em> bad. </em>An asshole definitely, but he’s the best man Steve has ever met without even needing a super serum to get him started. Bucky has been respected his entire life. Steve’s still trying to get used to simply being someone people see. “Just because I didn’t have my father growing up doesn’t mean I’m looking for a man to take advantage,” he says drily, head down so people won’t see him soften under Bucky’s stare. “I’m not that kind of guy.”</p><p>“Yeah, you’ve always been too good for the likes of me,” Bucky says, but it suddenly doesn’t sound like he’s joking. Steve doesn’t know what to make of that- that’s how <em> he </em> feels. Why would Bucky feel the same. Regardless, Bucky’s lightening up and moving on a second later. “Now how’s about you let me make up for that birthday I missed while you were making your rounds on the road as a superstar?” He sneaks a hand down to squeeze at Steve’s knee underneath the bar over his uniform, expression over top composed where Steve feels clumsy. </p><p>His answer reflects that feeling. Bucky, the fucking bastard, smirks. “I- uh…” He swallows, throat still sticking when he gives Bucky a half hearted glare. “I’ll show you the way.”</p><p>“That’s usually my line.” Bucky doesn’t seem mad or maudlin, though maybe a little wistful. Steve could be reading too far things, but reading Bucky is something he’s pretty good at, even if Bucky has been sort of stoic since what went down at Azzano. </p><p>Steve starts to step up the stairs, Bucky no doubt staring at his newly bigger butt behind him once they’re out of sight of the swamp of people downstairs. “You’ll get to use it again in a little bit,” he tells him, because he will. Steve is still leaning his way around this big new body. Bucky bossing him around a bit like he’s used to might just be the help he needs to settle down in it. “Lord knows you’re using enough other ones in the meantime.”</p><p>Once they’re up in the hallway, Bucky seizes the opportunity to press right up against Steve’s back while he tries to make his way to what’s about to become their room- a room they <em> really </em> need to get inside before Bucky starts something he shouldn’t finish where someone else might see. </p><p>It’s hard to concentrate with his stubble and whisky sour breath scraping right up against the side of Steve’s neck, and by the time he finally fumbles the door open, he’s scrambling to let Bucky inside more places than just the door. Steve wants to open up and give this man <em> everything. </em>The good, the bad, everything the serum changed, and everything it didn’t. </p><p>Steve wants to give him that and more for everything Bucky’s lost since leaving, but he’s not quite sure how to do that without crumpling down and crying. Bucky’s probably had enough tears to last a lifetime and tonight is something special Steve doesn’t want to ruin just because he couldn’t keep from sobbing. Bucky is used to that, though. Steve’s always been a stubborn bastard who’s better at getting beaten up than <em> opening </em> up when it comes to his own feelings, but he’s also always been an easy crier. He’s managed to hide that from just about everyone save for Bucky and his Ma. </p><p>He’s a big man now. Men aren’t supposed to cry. He knows Bucky would let him anyways, but that’s not what he wants to spend the night doing, so he blinks back the wetness welling up in his eyes and settles on closing them instead. Bucky has his back up against the door, arms cradled around where Steve’s are now wide, and the way he’s <em> looking </em> at him- Steve is so impossibly grateful he’s still alive. </p><p>So is Bucky, from the sound of his next words. He places a kiss on the soft skin under each of Steve’s eyes. It tickles, but Steve doesn’t shy away from the souch. Even with all the stubble, Bucky’s lips are as soft on his skin as ever. “You saved me, sweetheart,” he murmurs, mouth right up against the corner of Steve’s own like a prayer. “My guy came and got me out.” He kisses him for real this time, and by the time it’s over, they’re both gasping for air and Steve’s gone dizzy like his new lungs mean nothing when it comes to Bucky taking his breath away. “Thank you,” Bucky whispers. His voice sounds wet. A drop of that slips from the corner of Steve’s eyes even with the way he’s squeezing them shut. Bucky inhales, then darts his tongue out to lap it up like he’s a dying man in the desert who’s desperate to taste. </p><p>Steve’s breath hitches at how that feels, and somehow it makes something in him snap. He lurches forward with no mind to his new form and hugs Bucky just like he used to when one of them was feeling low- both arms looped over his shoulders. Face buried into the junction of his neck. Steve has to bend his own just to be able to fit, and he can’t exactly put all his weight on Bucky the way he used to, but it’s good enough even if it isn’t the same. </p><p>That feeling of being safe and surrounded no matter the circumstances is, especially when Bucky inhales and speaks hoarse into his hair. “It’s good to see you, Stevie.”  </p><p>“I missed you back, Buck. I can’t even tell you how much.”</p><p>With his eyes still shut, Steve can almost pretend they’re swaying together somewhere back in their apartment, safe from the outside and everything the world and war seeks to take. He can pretend he’s still eighteen and Bucky has just come inside Sarah’s half empty place with the offer to take Steve somewhere where he can be sad without having to be by himself. He can pretend he’s still twenty four and Bucky hasn’t shipped out, that the only serums he’s seen are those that go on the face. </p><p>He can’t pretend <em> he’s </em> small anymore, but he can feel that way again with how Bucky is still holding him tight, tucked up against his chest like Cap doesn’t exist and Steve isn’t now six feet and two inches taller. He’s not small anymore. But he is safe. Four months apart can change his body, but it can’t change this. The world still spins. Bucky still sees him. Some things will always stay the same. </p><p>Unless the world suddenly stops time, that one year Bucky still has over him will stay the same. Steve still doesn’t want it any other way. </p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Unfortunately, Steve’s world does stop spinning. Or at least it feels like it. Because the world he’s in is one where Bucky Barnes is no longer on it. His body might be, but Steve doesn’t even know where that is, does he? He can’t even bury him. Can’t even bring him back home to Brooklyn where Becca and the rest of the Barnes must be waiting for their big brother, their only <em> son, </em>to come back to them. </p><p>Steve, for all that Bucky did the same for his sorry ass, failed to keep him safe. This is on him. No matter what anyone says, this is the truth, one that Bucky took to the grave. Whatever blood Bucky may have spilled on his way down off the train… that’s on Steve. That blood is staining the hands Bucky used to hold. </p><p>Bucky was always one step ahead of Steve, always helping to show him the way, but Steve... he never thought that meant he’d see his best guy die first. It’s a cruel twist of fate. How many nights did Bucky lay awake worrying and wondering about what sickness might take Steve away? How many times did he have to call the Priest just to prepare? That was hard on him, Steve knows. </p><p>Somehow, for Steve, this feels even harder. There’s not enough hope or healing in the world that could make him feel better about Bucky being taken away. </p><p>Steve is twenty six when Bucky falls. The same age Bucky was when Steve got the serum in the first place- the serum, that despite all the promises and claims they all gave about it making him a hero, couldn’t help him save the one person who he’d wanted to repay for the favor. </p><p>When Peggy finds him in the bombed out bar- the same one Steve had sat in with Bucky almost a year before- she tries to say things to him about how <em> he’s </em> the one who needs to respect Bucky’s choices as if she’d respected him at all when he was alive, as if she hadn’t been rude to the one person Steve always wanted around for a reason Steve still isn’t sure of. </p><p>He wants Bucky back around now. He has to drop his gaze and stifle back a sob when the realization hits him for what seems like the millionth time that that will never happen again. Every second that ticks by is now one where Bucky will always be away. Every minute is one that Steve mourns. Every day… Every day that will pass after Bucky’s death is one that will shorten the difference in their ages Steve had once thought would span across their lifetimes. </p><p>Bucky’s lifetime has ended. Too short. Too soon. That familiar difference between them now shrinks while the distance Steve is feeling fit its way in with the grief seems like it’ll do nothing but grow. </p><p>One year, three months, and twenty <em> three </em> days until the last comfort of Bucky that Steve has left goes away. Steve doesn’t know how many more he can go on. The one thing he’d thought would never change now <em> has. </em>The one small thing he’d clung to for himself, and now he can’t even have that. He’s lost so much that maybe something so little shouldn’t feel so big, but it does. </p><p>Bucky always used to be bigger. Stronger. Everything Steve wanted and wanted to be. Steve had been stuck trying to constantly prove that while he was small, he was big enough. His body was weak, but his mind was strong enough. He’d only ever wanted to prove that <em> he </em> was enough.</p><p>And when the time came down to it… he wasn’t. </p><p>He says as much to Peggy, and he isn’t sure why. He hates anyone seeing him cry except Bucky, but Bucky’s no longer around, and it’s not like Steve can feel much through the numbness anyways. He says it because she’s there. She’s there, and Bucky isn’t. </p><p>He curls the bottle of whisky he has closer like it’ll be as comforting to taste it out of the glass as it once was from Bucky’s lips. “I got in over my head. Bucky waded in and pulled me out, just like he always did,” he says. If it sounds hollow, that’s because that’s what <em> he </em> is now. “And the one time he needed me to return the favor, I couldn’t.” </p><p><em> You could have, </em> his mind helpfully supplies, sounding taunting despite the fact Steve can no longer even get tipsy. <em> You just didn’t. You </em> let <em> him die.  </em></p><p>It only seems fair that Steve now feels like doing that himself. Steve once followed him over here first. Why not do it again? <em> That little guy from Brooklyn. </em> There’s no one left alive to see him that way. Not his Ma. Not Bucky. Not even Erskine. And Peggy might have seen him before the serum- but she never <em> picked </em> him. She never <em> wanted </em> him. </p><p><em> “You were beautiful before someone noticed,” </em> Bucky had one told him, the night they first kissed. <em> “But I always did.” </em></p><p>Now, lips kissing a bottle of whisky- the closest thing to Bucky besides a pack of Lucky Strikes Steve has left- he has the sudden urge to laugh. Great. He’s hysterical. Colonel Phillips should lock him up before he goes crazy and <em> really </em> does something stupid without Bucky around, like hurl himself off a cliff right after him. </p><p>Peggy’s voice is the same infuriating mix of caring and condescending it had been earlier when she spoke about Steve’s <em> friend </em>and what he would have wanted. “I doubt it’s that simple.”</p><p>She <em> doubts. </em> Steve does too. He <em> doubts </em> she would know what happened considering she wasn’t even there. How she ended up being the one that came to him, Steve doesn’t know. He’d figured they’d send someone after him, but he’d been expecting one of the Howlies. Someone who was <em> there. </em>Who would have seen. He’s grateful for the company, but her comforts- while well intended- aren’t going to cut it. </p><p>He hates himself for it, but he can’t let another second go by without trying to make someone <em> understand. </em> It <em> is </em> that simple. It <em> is </em> his fault. “All I had to do was hold him.” <em> All those times he held me, </em> he wants to say. <em> And I still wasn’t able to hold on. </em>Being held and able to hold Bucky had once been important. Now he has neither. </p><p>There’s a grief there greater than any other he’s ever felt. At least with his Ma he knew her getting sick wasn’t his <em> fault. </em> He could feel her fighting and knew it was something she had to battle on her own, even with him by her side every step of the way that his flat feet and shitty immune system would allow. But with Bucky, both those things don’t apply. It is Steve’s fault. He should have fought harder. He should have been able to <em> fix </em> this, but he didn’t, and it’s his failure that caused Bucky to fall. </p><p>Maybe that’s the greatest grief of all. Being left on this earth when the only people he’s ever loved are all gone. The more he thinks about being left behind, leaving <em> them </em> behind, the less he feels like he had ever really been loved at all. It’s almost similar to how he’d felt after the serum- he wasn’t used to being big, but being small felt more like a fading memory with every step forward his new body allowed him to make. He’s passed by that pain the same way he and Peggy passed all those alleys on his way to Howard’s lab. </p><p>He doesn’t want to pass Bucky by, can’t even fathom it. He doesn’t want to leave him behind. He doesn’t want to ever turn twenty eight knowing Bucky never got to. He doesn’t know what he’ll do to stop it, but he won’t. He <em> can’t.  </em></p><p>Luckily, the crash down into the Arctic happens before he can.</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>The salt water seeping in through the sides of the plane is colder than any New York winter or walk home in the rain Steve has ever been through. Those experiences could have killed him, but they pale in comparison, because Steve is pretty sure this one is probably going to. For good this time, no Priests around to be called. </p><p>Steve has put himself into a stickier situation than picking an unfair fight with rotten odds or standing on a stool that makes him sprain his ankle. Bucky would probably kill him himself if he knew- smack the back of his head or shake him by the chin and call him “kid” or maybe “punk” that exasperated tone of voice that let Steve know he’d probably just done something objectively very dumb. </p><p>But Bucky isn’t around to have his back or give him his own to boost a ride on. Steve is alone. He’s been living alone since the day Bucky left, but now, Steve is going to die alone as well. There’s no one to catch him. No one to go down with him save for Red Skull and the goddamn Tesseract. </p><p><em> Good, </em>he thinks, throat closing up with a combination of fear, tears, and what’s probably a lack of oxygen with how high the water’s getting. It’s enough for him to sit in and shiver, though he thinks he’ll run out of air even before the water ever hits the top with much his lungs now take to operate. A blessing and a curse. He’s not sure how much time he has left, but what little he does will be spent thinking about how Bucky had those options if only Steve had taken them- Steve is taking them now, even though he knows it’s too late, in more ways than one. </p><p>At least this attempt can be used to atone. It can be used to save the day for those left who want to live through them. God knows Steve doesn’t- God knows that well, Steve might be sent to hell for more than just sodomy were he still one to believe in him. </p><p>Bucky fell in January. It’s almost March now. Almost two months without him. One year, one month, and- how many days, Steve isn’t sure. Bucky’s birthday would have been in a few weeks. He would have turned twenty eight. </p><p>Steve is glad that if he’s going to die, it’ll at least be while he’s still twenty six. </p><p>He gasps in another ten, fifteen, twenty more times until he sinks down into the cold. When he shuts his eyes, this time he can’t pretend he’s anywhere other than where he is. Sitting in ice cold water, crashed halfway down to the ocean floor without even trying to crawl his way out.  </p><p>He wonders what Peggy will say, if she’ll know. She has to. She’s the one who saw how he was after Bucky’s fall, when he wasn’t trying to hide behind the person that had taken him over without Bucky around to pull him out. It’s funny, if Steve really thinks about it- he’s always saying Bucky used to wade in and do just that when he was in over his head. He’s in over his head deeper than ever. </p><p>It seems only fitting that Steve drown without him around.</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Steve does die at twenty six on the records of the organization he comes to know as SHIELD, but when he wakes, they say that he’s supposed to be twenty seven, or somewhere closer to it than he had been last time he checked. He died before March hit, though the headlines confirming it only hit after. He died weeks away from Bucky’s birthday. Months away from his own. </p><p>They wake him up in June of what apparently is 2011. Sixty six years after when the world thought he “died” in 1945. Steve had thought he was going to die too. Sometimes, he still wishes he did, but he never says that out loud. In this strange new world, he doesn’t say a lot of things. </p><p>He doesn’t actually know if he’s supposed to be turning twenty seven by the time that first July hits, but in the end, he figures a few months lost won’t make much of a difference. He’s already lost his Ma. Everyone he knew. Sixty years. The love of his life. What’s wrong with losing a matter of four months? Time is a tricky thing, no matter what remnants of it remain in his head. </p><p>With the ice, how long has it been since Bucky fell? Since his half of the small space of time tuck between them froze like Steve had down in the Arctic? After Steve wakes up, he tries to calculate how much of it he has left. One year. Less than one month. He doesn’t want to know how many days. </p><p>July of 2011 hits and Steve Rogers turns twenty seven. There’s no one around to see. No one around who helps him celebrate. At that point, it’s one of two birthdays he’s ever spent alone. </p><p>He spends it shut up in his apartment, by himself save for the sadness and a bottle of the same kind of scotch Bucky used to always talk about wanting to buy. They didn’t have the money back then. Steve has more than he needs now, but he barely spends it. His Mama raised him better than to be wasteful just because he can. </p><p>He ends up somehow curled on the kitchen floor under the table with the bottle by his head and the heel in the hand of his mouth to stifle the sound of him sobbing. He’s always been an easy crier, and at that moment, staying alive feels harder than anything. But there are no planes around now. No excuses to sink down without even trying to swim. </p><p>It’s a rough night, to say the least. When he finally gets up off the floor and looks in the mirror the following morning, his eyes are still red rimmed and he feels oddly grateful for it. He wants to look as wrecked as he feels. He wishes he was still as wrecked as his plane. </p><p>He doesn’t say that, either, not even when SHIELD tries to assign him a therapist that he refuses to speak to. No one needs to see what mess their precious <em> man with a plan </em> becomes, and he doesn’t really want to <em> talk. </em>What’s there to say? He tries not to think of Bucky. He tries not to think of how Brooklyn used to be. </p><p>They offer him an address where he could pay Peggy a visit- Peggy, who is the last person alive Steve knew and everyone seems to think he should have loved. He doesn’t visit Peggy, but he also doesn’t have the heart to explain to everyone that he was busier falling in <em> line </em> than he was with falling in <em> love. </em> He was already in love anyways, but he definitely doesn’t have the heart to tell them that. How many questions would there be?</p><p>Even after the fall, Steve couldn’t bring the Barnes’s a body. Couldn’t even give his best guy a real grave. The very least Bucky deserves is to be able to rest. That’s one thing Steve can keep from failing at. </p><p>He doesn’t talk about Bucky, his Ma, or even the Howlies, but by the time SHIELD calls him back around for a battle, he still misses them something fierce. The Avengers are apparently supposed to be his new team. His coworkers. His former team was closer to a family, but there’s no time for bonding- and besides, Steve doesn’t need that. For the first time since he was scrawny, he’s back to itching for a less than fair fight. </p><p>They can’t bond, but they do have to be introduced. Steve meets Natasha first. She’s nice, if not a bit sarcastic and standoffish, but what is he if not the same? She has red hair and calls him Rogers. Steve calls her ma’am. </p><p>She gives him a once over after they’re left alone, no doubt aware she’s been wordlessly assigned to be Captain America’s babysitter. As if he can’t find his own way up to a bridge. “It was quite the buzz around here, finding you in the ice. I thought Coulson was gonna swoon. Did he ask you to sign his Captain America trading cards yet?”</p><p>Steve blinks, not sure what to make of that, if she’s implying something about Phil or something about <em> Steve. </em>No one knows about his interest in men. It must not mean anything. But he’s still confused about that second part. “Trading cards?”</p><p>She tilts her head and smiles so subtly it’s almost a smirk. “They’re vintage. He’s very proud.” He can practically hear the unspoken <em> you’re vintage </em>sitting on the tip of her tongue. </p><p>He almost responds, but that’s before Bruce comes over and Steve meets the second member of the team he isn’t sure he wants to be on. But it’s not like he has many other options, is there? One year of solitude on the sidelines was enough. When getting to know everyone, though, he eventually comes to a realization that halts him in the stupid red boots they gave saddled him with, more similar to the ones of the USO than the SSR. </p><p>He’s comparably the youngest Avenger. Also the one with the least amount of experience. Just like he had been before with the Howlies, but this time there’s no one around to help him with getting up the confidence to lead or at least do whatever Fury and Phil are expecting. Bucky had been there to do that last time. He sure as hell isn’t here now. </p><p>That realization quickly turns ironic when Steve comes to a second one about ten minutes in after he meets Tony Stark. They’re exchanging words after an encounter with Loki, Steve’s first big bad of the century and only his second over all. </p><p>Stark has been referencing things Steve doesn’t understand. He slows down his words like Steve is dumb when he next speaks. “Still, you are pretty spry, for an older fellow. What's your thing? Pilates?” His tone is that oddly brusque quality to it that Steve is more used to hearing from bullies than billionaires, though he supposes the two descriptors aren’t mutually exclusive. </p><p>He’s so caught off guard hearing it from a teammate that all he can offer is a slightly stiff “What?” which the other man responds to with a scoff. </p><p>“It's like calisthenics.” He pauses and Steve feels left out of a joke he’s not sure would welcome him in. But that's how he feels with most things these days. “You might have missed a couple things, you know, during your time as a Capsicle.”</p><p><em>Capsicle.</em> Steve knows that’s not meant to be a nickname like any of the ones Bucky ever gave him, not really. It’s play on words that doesn’t leave much room for wonder. Tony isn’t teasing him the way Bucky or the Howies used to- knocking him around after missions, laughing together around the fire, Dugan calling him <em>Captain</em> <em>Kid</em> and Bucky having to butter him up from being mad again after doing the same- no, this isn’t like that. Stark isn’t teasing him. There’s no leg up for Steve to tease back. How could he have the room to when everything is so unfamiliar, when if he’s not acting as Captain, his actions are still almost always uncertain?</p><p>They aren’t playing on the same ground here, probably aren’t even playing the same <em> game. </em>Steve might be getting another unfair fight sooner than he thought. </p><p>Stark is making fun of him. Steve still isn’t sure over what. His… age? According to the files Steve checked when he was with Coulson, Anthony Edward Stark is about to turn forty three in three weeks. He’s fifteen years older than Steve, over double of what Dugan and Dernier used to be.</p><p>Steve is only…. <em> oh. </em>The realization sets in. </p><p>He’s only twenty seven, but for some reason everyone is hell bent on treating him like he’s ninety three. </p><p>He didn’t age in the ice physically and wasn’t aware enough to do it mentally, either, so he’s not exactly sure where this sentiment came from. Is it because he’s from the 1940s? Because of the serum? He’s had the shield for less than three years. He’s been in the military for the same amount of time. Hell, for him, he's spent more time <em> without </em> his mother than <em> with </em> the serum. </p><p>Everyone is treating him like he’s some old man. Bucky never did. As much as Steve hated being babied, he’d have let him do it anyways so long as it came from him. He’s no one's baby now, though in comparison to the rest of his team, he feels kind of like he’s just a kid the way Bucky always used to rib him about. </p><p>He briefly wonders why people can’t see that, and then a third realization sets in. There’s no one left that sees <em> him </em> at all. </p><p>He doesn’t argue back with Stark for the time being. With how old Stark <em> actually </em> is, Steve shouldn’t be the one who has to be the bigger man, but he will be. Bucky’s not here anymore to be bigger or older or stronger. Steve will just have to be those things instead. </p><p>No matter how hard it is. No matter how much it hurts. </p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>What really hurts, as he finds two years later, is finding out that Bucky is <em> alive. </em>It’s not anywhere near the same type of pain Steve had felt the day he died, but it’s damn near something close to it. The opposite side of the spectrum, maybe. </p><p>When that mask first comes off in the street, Steve can’t believe it. He can’t even comprehend<em> . </em> Steve is still panting, halfway reeling from the fact he just had to flip the Soldier over when it happens. When half of Steve’s heart looks to have finally come <em> home.  </em></p><p>The Soldier looks up and it’s like everything at the moment is moving in slow motion. His hair, as long and shaggy as it is, moves with the wind, but the air around Steve feels like it’s gone stock still. He straightens up, muscles aching from the fight so that he’s shifting slow as molasses. But when he speaks, the word- the <em> name- </em> comes rushing out. </p><p>“Bucky?” Horror and hope both rise up in his chest. The hope briefly goes higher. </p><p>That is, until the Soldier opens his mouth. Steve is expecting to hear the love of his life talk for the first time in almost a century, but what ends up coming out is a callous “Who the hell is Bucky?” and all that’s built up comes crashing right back down. Sam follows with a kick delivered to Bucky’s- the Soldier’s?- head shortly after, and everything after that is a blur. </p><p>Next thing Steve knows, he’s in two pairs of cuffs in the back of a van, Brock Rumlow and co. holding him captive. Or, <em> bringing him in, </em>they say. Somehow, Steve has some trouble believing them. But he can’t even find it in him to fight back- he hasn’t felt this numb since the night after Bucky fell from the train. </p><p>It’s like he’s lost him all over again. He barely even really got him back. He got a glimpse of someone who might as well be a ghost. </p><p>And now he’s gone. This time Steve has the room to wonder if he’s ever going to come back. It’s a slight relief. But it’s something. It’s more than he’s had since March of 1945. </p><p>It’s a relief, but there’s some grief there as well. And realization. If Bucky’s been alive since the fall, what does that mean for them? What does that mean for <em> him? </em> How is he alive? How does he look so similar after sixty years of Steve sleeping?</p><p>All this time Steve was worried about Bucky falling behind, <em> leaving </em> him behind… and here he is. According to Natashas account of already having met him, most likely aging away and ahead of him. How many years? How many months? How many days?</p><p>How much of a difference is there between them, if there’s still anything there at all?</p><p>“It was him,” he eventually whispers, voice rougher than the ride they’re currently taking, which is saying something with how much they’re being shaken. Steve’s still pretty shaken himself even without the van involved. “He looked right at me.” He pauses, eyes fixed on where his hands are locked up on his lap. His voice feels just as trapped in his throat, but he gets it out anyways, though he’s not sure Sam or Natasha really want to hear. “He didn’t even know me.”</p><p>If his voice breaks on that last bit, Sam is kind enough not to say. What he settles on instead thankfully changes the subject, though it’s to one that’s equally as heavy. “How is that even possible? It was like seventy years ago.”</p><p>Steve almost corrects him. It’s only been sixty nine. Not that the numbers really matter now that Bucky is back around. “Zola. Bucky’s whole unit was captured in forty three.” The same year Steve got the serum. When Bucky was twenty six and Steve was twenty four. “Zola experimented on him.” He pauses, the next part too painful to get through without it. “Whatever he did helped Bucky survive the fall. He must have found him and…”</p><p>Steve failed him for more years than he initially thought. All this time… all that Steve had allowed this sorrow to take from them. How he doesn’t only have to worry about what might have happened if he were just able to hold him. </p><p>If he had only searched. If he had only known that Bucky had survived, laying down in the snow. Arm torn off. All hope taken when he realized that Steve wasn’t going to come. </p><p>Steve wants to cry, is creeping towards crossing the line letting the tears loose when Natasha sees and raises her head up higher. Her eyes are half lidded and words have slurred, but she uses some of the last of her strength to speak. “None of that’s your fault, Steve.”</p><p>She’s trying to comfort him, Steve knows. She’s even being less subtle about it than usual- Steve’s the youngest of this group too, and if Sam is like his brother, Natasha's his big sister. She might be a foot shorter and only a year older, but same as with Bucky (or not the <em> same, </em>but somewhat similar), that hasn’t mattered. It’s nostalgic to have something so intimate in this new century, but even that's not enough to interrupt his self loathing right now. </p><p>He looks to the side like he’s looking for something to say when really he’s fighting back tears. He knows exactly what he wants to say. “Even when I had nothing, I had Bucky.” <em> And Bucky always had me. </em>The words come out as a hoarse whisper, small and too soft for the situation they’re in, but that’s how Steve is feeling. </p><p>For the first time since the serum, he feels as small as he used to, no longer sick and skinny, but maybe just as frail. It’s the same sort of smallness that used to come with the knowledge of Bucky being older- they had so little consistency, of course Steve clung to that. But with the safeness and content of it removed, it really only leaves Steve feeling hollow. Shrunken down. Shriveled up. </p><p>He’s a husk, the same way Bucky had been when Steve said his name on the street. Or not Bucky, because <em> who the hell is Bucky? </em> Steve saw Bucky, the same way Bucky always used to see him before<em>, </em> but he’s not sure he knows who he is anymore. Sometimes he’s still not sure <em> he </em> even really knows that he’s <em> Steve. </em>Without half his soul, it’s been hard not to have to search for himself. </p><p>The world thinks he’s an old man, treats him like an old man. That’s what Bucky used to call himself in order to tease Steve, and maybe it should serve as some sort of a reminder, Steve following in his footsteps- but it <em> doesn’t </em>. Steve hates it, about as much as he hated himself for not being able to hold on. </p><p>He should have known Bucky wouldn't let either of them be left behind. He’s always been better than Steve, had more experience even in the field up until the fall. He signed on with the military in December of forty two when he was twenty five and Steve still twenty four. He didn’t ship out until the same June Steve got the serum, but he was over on the front for those four months they were separated. </p><p>After they reunited and Steve set up the team, they spent the rest of the war together until the fall. Steve crashed the Valkyrie only a month after that, though the records won’t detail how that month was one where he barely made it- and <em> didn’t </em> make it through. Peggy hadn’t chosen to tell them about what she surely must know. </p><p>Steve crashed the Valkyrie on purpose, not because it was needed. But because with Bucky was where he wanted to be. </p><p>Even then, Bucky in the end still had been at war longer than Steve. And now, with this new knowledge… apparently didn't have the chance to stop fighting after that for sixty nine years, sixty six of which Steve spent asleep. He had more experience before. Now Steve has to wonder if the same can still be said now because of the Soldier. </p><p>Steve feels almost sick with the confused mass feelings swelling up inside him. The suffering Bucky must have been through. The torture. The <em> pain. </em>Steve thought his weeks at Azzano had been bad- but they must have been heaven compared to this. What little Natasha told him about the Soldier before he knew who was under the mask swims in his head, mixing with the memories of Bucky from before. </p><p>That always smug, always smiling boy who used to save Steve from getting beat up. The asshole who always used to rib him and call him dumb names but still always tried to make sure to schedule his shifts so he could walk Steve home from work. The man who worked himself half the death just to ensure they’d have something to eat even when Steve lost yet another job. </p><p>The love of Steve’s life, who always took care of him. No matter what else the world tried to take from what little they already had. </p><p><em> Credited for over two dozen assassinations in the last 50 years. </em>That means he must have been awake while Steve was asleep, and maybe that shouldn’t make Steve ache, but it does. He’d been so sure Bucky was dead, even without seeing the body. Turns out he was alive even when Steve hadn’t been. </p><p>Did Hydra tell him what had happened to him? Did he ever think he lost Steve the same way Steve thought he lost him? It’s a horrible thought. At least half of Steve hopes the answer is no. The other half… the other half isn’t used to feeling any hope at all. The other half just hurts. </p><p>Steve’s real other half- the one he had seen on the street- is still also hurting. Bucky had been aggressive, <em> ruthless</em>, but he’d also looked confused. He’d stopped and asked a question, and there had been a brief moment when the masks both figurative and physically slipped loose to expose a look that Steve can only describe as <em> haunted.  </em></p><p>Haunted. That’s almost funny. It <em> is </em> funny in the fucked up way Steve is still getting used to. Between the two of them today, Steve’s the one who had seen the ghost. Bucky’s not a ghost, though, no matter what he might have said to Natasha about the Soldier earlier. He’d called him a ghost story. Steve Rogers, for one, feels <em> alive </em> for the first time in this century. In his head it’s been three about years, but losing Bucky still feels like yesterday. </p><p>He said they should see what the ghost wants. He takes that back. <em> He </em> wants the ghost. He wants to go get Bucky. </p><p>He’ll crash as many planes as it takes to get to him, and this time, he’ll find his way. Like he said before, with Bucky is where he wants to be, no matter how big or bad his track record now might make him out to be. </p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Getting Bucky back doesn’t end up requiring him to crash a plane, but it does require him to crash a Helicarrier. That second time, down into the Potomac rather than the Arctic. The water isn’t nearly as cold, from what little he can remember about sinking down before his wounds had him fading out. </p><p>Bucky had been long gone by the time he woke up, but even with the rest of their situation, that hadn’t been much of a surprise. A let down, sure, but Steve had also been unconscious for days. He was far from happy knowing Bucky left him- voluntarily, this time- but he also knew that whatever had happened… Bucky hadn’t hurt him. He had quite literally waded in when Steve had once again gotten in over his head and pulled him out before he could drown. </p><p>Whatever parts of him might still be the Winter Solider, it had been all Bucky Barnes that turned protective when Steve Rogers was around. Bucky always protected him, even when Steve was outwardly huffy and unhappy about it, because if anything happened to him- </p><p><em>“My heart would break in two,”</em> he always told him, usually after Steve tried to pick another fight he had to finish.<em> “Keeping your stubborn ass safe is pretty hard work, sweetheart. Believe me when I say I’m doing it for us both.”</em> Steve would jump between getting grumping and going soft everytime that was said out loud. Bucky, on his end, almost always laughed or tugged on his hair, sometimes both at the same time.</p><p>There’s no one to laugh or tug at his hair when Steve wakes up in the hospital. There’s Sam, who smiles and plays music and makes sure Steve is taken care of in a way of his own, but there are some things even with him that Steve just can’t let anyone get close enough to see. Except for Bucky. Letting someone else in in the way Bucky had him back then somehow makes it feel like Steve is admitting that he doesn’t think this time Bucky will be coming back at all.</p><p>Bucky always protected Steve. Apparently that now includes even from himself, hence why he went on the run. Steve only finds this out two years later when he finally catches up to him and the home Bucky has build for himself in Bucharest. </p><p>Steve won’t ever say this out loud, because he knows it’s selfish, but part of him is melancholy to see Bucky have one of those without him. Bucky’s still his home. Steve can only hope he’ll one day go back to being the same for him. </p><p>The happiness outweighs the selfishness, though, just like Bucky once again now outweighs Steve. 2016, and yet again, their bodies are still seeing changes. Bucky’s own serum has him shot up an inch and half and at least sixty pounds of sheer muscle mass past the arm. He’s got hair that’s unkempt and almost shoulder length. He’s also in desperate need of a shave, but if he does, Steve will admittedly be a bit sad to see the silver spot by the corner of bis mouth go. </p><p>He’s been trying to surreptitiously study it the same as the rest of Bucky’s face best he can ever since they got the quinjet off the ground. They’re on an almost ten hour flight, so he has plenty of time to take it in, but the silence that’s been hanging between them since their previous exchange has him wondering if Bucky would rather him not. </p><p>He turns his head. They’ve been sitting in the bay for the past half hour on opposite sides, both facing the other but pointedly looking forward like they don’t have entire lifetimes lost to discuss.  He opens his mouth to ask something casual just to start the conversation off, but Bucky shifts the second he does and looks decidedly uncomfortable. That’s understandable with the day they’ve both had. Steve doesn’t end up askong, for once staying quiet instead.</p><p>For some reason, Bucky doesn’t seem to like that either, because a second later he’s lookong even more uncomfortable and croaking out a question for himself. “Who taught you how to fly one of these? Last time I checked you barely knew how to drive a car.” He raises his eyebrows. “According to how you got us to the airport, you definitely don’t know how to use the brake.”</p><p>Steve is quick to offer him an answer- probably over eager with it, but he’d rather try too hard than go back to not being able to try at all. He can only hope he has the right one to give when the real questions start to come. He looks down, forcing a small smile to his face so he doesn’t crumple at how the expression slips off of Bucky’s as soon as he looks away. It’s like he’s actinf a part. Steve’s pretty sure he is too, though that’s nothing new. “Natasha’s a pretty good teacher.” It’s not like <em> he </em> has a very good track record with planes. </p><p>Bucky’s eyes are back on him, and under the black fabric his his pants, stretched tight with his legs out in front of him, Steve can see his thigh tense. “Learned a lot from her while I was gone, huh?” He’s trying to joke, but the wariness in his tone make’s Steve jolt. </p><p>No matter where they stand, he can’t let Bucky think that- he did <em> that </em> with anyone else. Not for a second. Maybe it could be considered self punishment, but everyone else had chalked it up to prudishness and Peggy, and Sharon- she’d only kissed him because Steve asked. Because he wanted to see if Bucky still… it was stupid, but if Bucky has any memories back, he should be used to that. </p><p>“It’s not like that.” He curls his toes in his boot and feels the muscles of his own leg tighten. “She said she knew you, though. When the both of you were…” He doesn’t finish.</p><p>Bucky snorts, then stretches out his neck with his flesh hand braced on the back<em> . “Knew </em> is a pretty strong word. Hard to know someone when neither of you really know yourself.”</p><p>Steve purses his lips then licks them. It’s like he can still feel something off about having someone else’s on them. Someone who wasn’t Bucky. “So the two of you weren’t…” He doesn’t finish. Again. It’s probably an unbecoming habit. </p><p>Bucky, as usual, is the one who does it for him, this time with a snap of his head and a harah tone that makes Steve’s spine tingle. “Christ, Steve. <em> No. </em> The place we were…” He pauses and looks away. “The Red Room was for training kids. I was pretty damn low, but she was a <em> little girl.” </em>He looks disgusted at the very idea. “At the time I knew her she was probably around Beck’s age. Barely eighteen by the time she would have left, and that was long after I’d gone away to go back under.”</p><p><em>You were only twenty eight, </em>Steve wants to say. It isn’t really relevant to their conversation, but the hysterics of it crawl up in his throat. All this time Steve thought he’d been twenty seven, but according to the files, they’d held off with trying to break him until his birthday passed and Steve had crashed his plane. </p><p>Some people might say that’s poetic, but Steve thinks he might be sick. For all that he’d wanted to stare a second ago, right now he no longer feels like he can look anywhere other than the floor. </p><p>That is, until Bucky starts talking. It ends up being more than Steve’s heard him do since all the teasing before the train. “Steve.” Then, when Steve doesn’t move, “Stevie. C’mon, can a guy get a better view, here? You know I’ve always liked blondes, but...” It’s that act back on again. </p><p>Steve almost grimaces, but ends up doing as asked. He’d do anything Bucky wanted right now if he says his name that nice again, under an act or not. Hell, he’s flying across half the world with him when they’d been at each other’s throats not twenty four hours ago. “Surprised you didn’t try and go blonde yourself. Gloves aren’t much of a disguise.”</p><p>“Yeah, well,” Bucky wiggles his metal fingers, looking the same kind of smug he used to when Steve did something he asked without putting up too much of a fight.  “This is a lot harder to hide than some hair.”</p><p>Steve briefly wonders how long it took to grow out, if the hair on the rest of his body is gone or grew out the same. There were pictures in the finally that probably could have told him, but he didn’t want to look. He still doesn’t. “I guess I’m not great at disguises myself.” This time he does grimace at the thought of the one Natasha stuck him in before the mission that led him to meet back up with Bucky again in the first place. The blue jeans and jacket were okay, as was the ballcap- but the shoes and the glasses… those were almost worse than the kiss. “I’m not caught up much on modern fashion anyways.” </p><p>Bucky snorts. It sounds genuine. “I’ve seen the photos of you from before the Battle of New York. Believe me, I know.” He scoots his leg over and taps the toes of their uniform boots together, and even under all the material, Steve’s skin sings at it. It’s the first small affection they’ve shared in over seventy years. “Whoever was managing your wardrobe had you dressing like an old geezer, and we both know that’s not what you are, kid.”</p><p>
  <em> Oh.  </em>
</p><p>Steve’s so caught off guard by that that his lips actually form around the sound without saying it out loud, which he’s sure looks a little strange, but- oh. That’s not something he’s heard himself be called on a long time by anyone but himself in his head. </p><p>He’d actually called someone else it the other day (besides the Queens kid at the airport- Steve doesn’t think that counted because he was an <em> actual </em> kid<em>. </em>He doesn’t know what Tony was thinking with that one). Wanda hadn’t been around to hear it or him trying to defend her, but it had been what came out when he was arguing with Tony in a tone full of so much despair and anger it surprised even himself. </p><p>
  <em>She’s just a kid.</em>
</p><p>He’d understood in that moment for the first time why Bucky always chose to call him that regardless of their actual ages. It’s not about putting someone down or trying to make them lesser. It’s about wanting to protect them. It’s about wanting to keep them from being taken advantage of or hurt. </p><p>He’d been somewhat surprised to find out after Ultron that Wanda is only twenty seven. She’d looked so young to him when they first met, but really- she’s the same age as he was when he first got off the ice. She’s the same age Bucky was when Steve thought he had died. </p><p>Maybe to Bucky, Steve was just that same kid from Brooklyn- but looking back, Bucky’d still half been a kid too. </p><p>He clears his throat and tries to come up with a response, knowing damn well the tips of his ears have probably turned red. “I’d say my jeans fit better than yours.” That’s only because Sam helped him pick them out (and even then he’d gone with the straight leg rather than the skinny) but he leaves that part out. Sam and Bucky don’t seem to be getting along yet anyways. </p><p>“Why, you been looking at my ass?” Bucky grins and it’s boyish. He’s beautiful, even half beat with his hair tangled and in need of a shower. </p><p>Hope flutters up in Steve’s chest- that’s a callback to their relationship, isn’t it? Maybe it’s dumb to feel like Bucky could forget it, but then again, he’d been forced to forget everything. It’d be just their luck his brain would let those be the memories that aren’t brought back up. A day ago, Steve hadn’t even been sure Bucky would know his name. He decides to test the waters with a statement less blanketed than before. “What ass?”</p><p>Bucky’s smile is even less guarded this time, gaze set on Steve through eyes squinted up with a chuckle. Steve’s heart aches at the crows feet he can see in the corners. “Not all of us can carry the burden you do,” he says, so slow and sighed out it’s almost a drawl- one that makes it clear he’s not talking about the shield so much as <em> Steve’s </em> ass. </p><p>Which, admittedly is a bit of a bother sometimes. Hence why he had to ask Sam about helping him shop for pants. For the sake of keeping the mood light, he relaxes his features and looks at him through his lashes. <em> Little steps, </em>he reminds himself. Don’t push about what he remembers. “I’m lucky it wasn’t like this when my back was bad.” He wonders how much Bucky remembers of him when he was small. He remembers his shoes, Sarah’s name- Steve’s spine can’t be far fetched, can it?</p><p>Bucky snorts. “You didn’t have an ounce of meat on those bones of yours besides what made your damn head so thick. Believe me, I know all about how bony your butt was.” He pulls a face. “<em> I’m </em> lucky it didn’t give me bruises every time you sat on my lap.”</p><p>Steve feels like he’s soaring just from the stupid remarks being set out between them. Bucky remembers him. He remembers <em> them. </em>“For my twenty first birthday you insisted that I let you feed me dinner that way. I complained the whole time during, but…” He looks down at his hands l where he has his fingers laced together over his own lap. “I liked it.” Then, through a smile, “Your leg must have fallen asleep sometime, though, because when you stood up, it gave out and you damn near dropped me hard enough to have the neighbors shout.”</p><p>Bucky’s quiet for a long moment and Steve is almost afraid he’s scared him off with the mention of a memory so soon, but the silence doesn’t last long before Bucky is laughing quietly out through it. “That Miss Wilkins was one uptight old woman.”</p><p>Steve’s relieved. The air is thinner up here, so that’s what he’ll blame the wetness in his sigh on. “Yeah? Y’know, some people might say you’re a real uptight old <em> man.” </em> He doesn’t mean that to be so meaningful, but Bucky must take it that way, because a moment later he’s looking at him with grey eyes gone unreadable.</p><p>“I used to only be that for you,” he murmurs, strangely seriously, and it takes everything in Steve to meet his eyes after. Bucky blinks, then looks away trying to laugh it off. “Hell of a midlife crisis to have.” He gestures again to Steve with the metal arm. “Wait ‘til you have yours.”</p><p>“If this is a midlife crisis for anyone, it’s Tony,” Steve says, because that’s the truth. Forty six years old and roping pre-teens into fighting to fix his personal problems? Maybe Steve <em> is </em> mature for his age.</p><p>The topic seems to be a stressor to Bucky, though. Something about it must bother him, because he scratches at the skin underneath his chin in a way that used to always mean he was stressed. Steve only feels slightly guilty for taking the distraction as an opportunity to study his face. </p><p>The features themselves haven’t changed much, though when Bucky opens his mouth to take a deep breath, Steve notes a little sadly that his formerly crooked front tooth is now straightened. He doesn’t want to think about what they might have done to fix that. His smile is still the same, at least, as is the dimple in his chin. It’s covered by the partial beard Bucky currently has going on, but Steve can still see it. He’s used to the sight of Bucky being scruffy since the war, anyways. </p><p>The divot between his eyebrows is deeper, wrinkles in his forehead more pronounced, but he’s as beautiful to Steve with age as that boy back in Brooklyn he used to sketch sitting on the fire escape in the summer was. Back when Steve was left wanting him and wishing to God he could have him. Somehow he got him, lost him, and now- might get to have him again. </p><p>The sun damage is new, as are the silver spots in his beard and the general ruggedness that now lines his face. It lines his whole body, really- what little Steve’s seen of it like this has him back to being bigger. With the metal arm, stronger. Everything else… no matter what Bucky says, Steve knows Bucky- no matter what brainwashing he’s been through- will always be a better man than him. He might even be a better fighter, but that’s a fair match Steve doesn’t have much of an interest in taking. </p><p>He’d rather do much more <em> pleasant </em> things. But first, they have to get by Tony. And before that, they have to get past talking. </p><p>“I know this might be a stupid question, but….” Steve hesitates before asking. “How have you bean? Before all… this, I mean.” He swallows. “Back in Bucharest. You looked like you had a life there.”<em> A home </em>, he almost says. He doesn’t. If he had, it would have sounded jealous. </p><p>There’s a quiet moment where Bucky pulls out a knife and a cloth from some hidden pocket on his pants, takes it out and starts to clean it like he needs to do something with his hands in order to get out an answer. “It was a start to one,” he eventually says. His voice is so even, Steve can tell it’s intentional. “I wasn’t there too long before you found me. Wasn’t a lot, but it was something.” He looks up suddenly.  “And what about you?”</p><p>Steve blinks at the subject change. “Me?”</p><p>Bucky flicks his knife open, exposing it as double ended, and swipes the cloth against it to emphasize the sarcasm in what he says next. “Yes, you.” He looks at him through his lashes, voice and gaze both settled down low. “You seem to have a life here. Or, had one.” </p><p>Steve winces at the slight guilt in that sentence. “Well, I had a job, but who I was working for turned out to be a bit of an ill fit. You met a couple of my friends. My apartment was nothing really special, and my hobbies have been pretty limited these past few years.” <em> While I was busy searching for you.  </em></p><p>It turns out there’s apparently a lot he doesn’t tend to say anymore.</p><p>“It’s your birthday in a couple weeks,” Bucky says, so soft Steve would barely be able to hear it if not for the serum. “Do you have any plans to celebrate?”</p><p>Steve is caught off guard by the question. Frankly, he’s been so busy lately, he’s barely even realized it’s coming up. He thinks maybe Sam said something a few weeks ago, a joke about spending it at the White House if he was feeling particularly patriotic, but… “No.” Then, a bit self consciously, “I don’t really, um, do much for it. Not anymore.” <em> Not since you stopped being able to spend it with me.  </em></p><p>Bucky nods slowly, and Steve wonders if he’s projecting the slight sadness he sees there. “I forgot mine a few months back,” he offers, a beat passing between them. “Not that I really know which one it would have been.”</p><p>That strikes somewhere deep within Steve. The space where all that love for the year between them used to be aches something awful right along with it. For all the trouble Steve had after waking up trying to decide if he was really twenty seven- and then, ninety three- Bucky’s probably been bothered by it even more. Steve feels like a fool for not realizing. </p><p>Bucky had been awake for so many missions, most likely for weeks at a time. He somehow learned Russian and Romanian based off of what Steve has heard him speak. He knew Natasha when she was young. He was pawned off to other handlers he had to have gotten used to being used by. How long must it have taken them to break him in the first place? Natasha said something about the last fifty years. What about the twenty before that?</p><p>All that time to train him, all those trips in and out of the freezer, all that they took from him- all of which Steve spent solidly asleep. Across almost a century… Bucky had to have aged at least a little- he looks like he has. It breaks Steve's heart that neither of them will ever really know how much. Steve has somewhat of a number. Bucky does not. </p><p>When Bucky asks for it, Steve gladly gives it to him. “How old do you really think you are?” Their feet are now fully resting together, toe to toe. Meeting in the middle.</p><p>“Thirty,” Steve replies, as gently as he can manage while he feels like he’s going to cry. “I’ll be turning thirty one.” Bucky nods and closes his eyes for a second. Steve does the same, and oddly enough, that old number he was so used to using before to count the difference between them comes back to mind, repeating like a mantra. </p><p>One year. Three months. Twenty four days. </p><p>When Bucky speaks, Steve’s eyes are still closed, but they open back up at the sound of his voice so fast that the overhead lights flash like the fireworks from the Fourth Bucky always used to say were for him. </p><p>His answer is just as gentle as Steve had been. “Guess that makes me thirty two then.”</p><p>April and June used to always be those two months where Bucky was two years older. The thought of being able to have that again- it means more to Steve than he could ever say. He has to try and say <em> something </em> anyways, but if his words waver, Bucky is kind enough not to point it out. </p><p>“I guess so.” It’s not a lot, but it’s all he’s got. </p><p>For Bucky, it seems to be good enough, because he’s jerking his head up and gesturing for Steve to take the spot beside him not two seconds later, knife sliding back in his pocket. “Get over here.”</p><p>Steve might be stubborn, but for Bucky, he’s more than glad to obey. This time, at least. He goes over and sits beside him, leaving enough space for Bucky to back away in case he’s overstepping or coming too close. </p><p>That’s apparently a stupid thing to worry about, because Bucky is rolling his eyes and scooting him over himself with his flesh arm thrown around his back. “C’mere, sweetheart. I’m not gonna bite.”</p><p>Steve might be almost thirty one, but he’s still not above full body shivering as he snuggles in closer at the sound of Bucky calling him sweetheart. He’ll never be above that, no matter his age. Time can’t touch that. He lets Bucky squeeze in at his shoulders, same as he used to. The fit of it has changed, but the comfort of it hasn’t. “I wouldn’t bet on that.”</p><p>Bucky tugs on his hair. Steve shivers a bit at that too, and is thankful that for once, it’s not from the cold. They might be on their way to Siberia, but with Bucky back, he doesn’t suspect he’ll have to stay cold for too long ever again. He’s always had his ways of warming him up. </p><p>He teases about one now. “Save all that for later, sweetheart. We’ve got a few more hours up in the air.” He presses his lips to Steve’s temple, and his scruff tickles against the skin when he speaks. “Should get some sleep while you can.”</p><p>“So should you,” Steve says, but he’s already sinking into his hold, hesitation set aside for the moment. He’s missed the older man so much. Shyness can wait for when they have somewhere more stable to settle. </p><p>Bucky just hums and tugs on his hair again. “I was out earlier on the way to the warehouse,” he reminds him. “I’ll be fine. You sleep, it’ll help pass the time better anyways. I seem to remember you being just a <em> bit </em> impatient.”</p><p>Steve closes his eyes. “Me, impatient? Never.”</p><p>“God must have known how much you hated waiting,” Bucky says softly, and then Steve feels a warm hand on his chin that shakes gently until his eyes open up and he looks up too. “That’s why he put me here to wait for you instead of the other way around.”</p><p>Steve’s not very religious nowadays, but the way he looks at Bucky next might as well be worship. The miracle of living in a world where Bucky came back to him… he believes in something, though he’s not sure what. Them, maybe. He believes in <em> Bucky </em> most of all. Bucky’s eyes search his own for a split second before Steve nods, not needing words to know what he’s asking. </p><p>He doesn’t need to ask. Not now. Not ever. </p><p>Bucky kisses him for the first time in seventy one years, and Steve doesn’t even try to save face when the tears come streaming down. His face is wet, and Bucky’s is too by the end of it with tears they both know aren’t only Steve’s own, lips still red and swollen when Steve hides his face to press them on Bucky’s neck. </p><p>So many other things have changed. That small feeling of being taken care of hasn’t one bit. Bucky still takes care of him- and Steve will take care of him too. Damn Tony. Damn Hydra, damn STRIKE, damn SHIELD- damn anyone who has ever tried to keep them away from each other. Not time, not place, not even their bodies have been able to keep them apart. Steve is Bucky’s, down to the bone. </p><p>It doesn't matter what cryo-years or time lost to the Soldier means for the physical age of their bodies. The fact of it all is that Steve Rogers was put on this earth to love Bucky Barnes from the moment he was born and no amount of changing appearances or changing decades can take that away from him. Bucky might be older but Steve wants to grow old <em> with </em> him. </p><p>He will. He has to. Their love is bigger than anything that’s standing against then. Stronger than anything that’s gotten between them. <em> Better </em> than anything else Steve has ever had- because even when he had nothing, he had this. He had Bucky. He has him now, and he’s going to hold on this time- nothing can make him let go. Not Tony or the Accords, or <em> anything </em> else. </p><p>Bucky kisses his hair this time, then murmurs into it, the stubble beard catching on blonde strands. “Go to sleep, Stevie. I’ll be here when you wake up.”</p><p>Steve shuts his eyes a second time. “You better be.”</p><p>“Go on. Let your old man keep look out.”</p><p>Bucky always looks out for him. The corner of Steve’s lips turn up into a sleepy smile that’s only slightly bittersweet. “You really are one of those now, you know.”</p><p>“I’m thirty two, not dead, pal.” And thank god for that. </p><p>Steve hums and holds him tighter, letting himself be held the same. “Some might say you’ve gotten crotchety in your old age.”</p><p>Bucky tugs on the cowlick at the back of his head. “Keep your mind on the mission, Cap.”</p><p>“Thought I was that little guy from Brooklyn.” Steve’s mind <em> is </em> on the mission, but he can multitask when it’s to make fun. </p><p>“You are.” Bucky sounds fond. “But you’re a little <em> shit </em> too.” He leans their heads together. “Now go to sleep. We’ve got shit to do in Siberia.” Steve sighs like it’s a hardship and Bucky laughs. “What, you need a bedtime story?”</p><p>Steve grunts. “Not a baby.”</p><p>Bucky is the one to sigh now, but it comes out much more content. Steve feels the same way. “Still my baby. Now shut your trap and try to <em> sleep.” </em></p><p>Steve does so with a smile for the first time since his sixty year slumber. He knows he’ll want to wake up this time as long as Bucky stays by his side. </p><p>The difference between their ages may have changed, but the love between them? That’s no different at all. </p><p>One year, three months, twenty four days aside- they have all the time in the world with each other now. Steve will gladly take each new day knowing they’ll live them together. </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>and they spend steves bday together in wakanda before bucky goes back under bc i said so!</p><p>comments &amp; kudos are what keeps the content coming, so feel free to spare what you can! feedback is my favorite. as usual, i hope you enjoyed. stay safe &amp; see you next time around, hopefully for bucky’s birthday!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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